In Those Ways We Were the Same
by nubianamy
Summary: When Poe Dameron returns from Jakku, he has to give his report to General Organa. She has some advice for him. Pre-slash Stormpilot (Poe/Finn), with a background preexisting Poe Dameron/Iolo Arana/Karé Kun poly triad.
_(Author's note: After watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens, I needed to explore the potential relationship between Finn and Poe - but first, I needed an explanation for a few key elements of Finn's character. For that, you'll have to read my other story Had to Leave Myself Behind._ _This is as canon-compliant as I could make it, based on Poe's backstory outlined in Before the Awakening and the additional details about Poe's survival of the crash on Jakku from the movie novelization by Foster._

 _I don't write anything short, so you can count on there being more in the future, but for now, this is enough. -amy)_

* * *

The first time Poe Dameron woke, it was to release the safety catch on his flight helmet and lose the contents of his stomach, meager as they were, into one cramped corner of the shipping container.

The icy cold of space had been replaced by the far less lethal chill of a spaceport. He could hear dock workers unloading freight around him, and though he struggled to raise his voice to say, _Hey, I'm in this cube, get me out of here,_ he could barely manage anything louder than a whisper. His stomach heaved with another bout of nausea.

He didn't count the minutes, but it was a good long while before he felt the container he was in being lifted and relocated. Poe reached out one desperate arm and hammered on the wall of the container in the universal rhythmic signal for distress.

"Did you hear that?" said a voice. He rolled his eyes and did it again, triggering further debilitating pain. But at least they had stopped. He listened with half an ear as the container was set down. A mech droid removed the access panel.

As soon as the light hit his eyes, he passed out again.

* * *

The second time he woke, it was to darkness and warmth, and the kind of instrument noises that pointed to a clinical environment. Poe blinked sleep-encrusted eyes and attempted to focus on the shadowy movements in front of him.

"Do you know where you are, Commander?"

"Not dead?" he guessed. Each word came out in a painful rasp. The voice chuckled.

"Not quite. How's your head?"

He raised a hand and touched it, then winced. "Still attached, sorry to say. I'd just as soon go back to being unconscious."

"That can be arranged." He heard the pulse of a medisensor. "I register you are recovering from a recent concussion, and within the last three hours sustained a second impact to your head. This concussion has not yet been resolved."

"No, no, I'm all right." Poe struggled to raise himself up on the cot. "You got any lights in this place?"

The lights brightened enough for him to make out the blue eyes and grey skin of medic Bollie Prindel. He broke into a relieved smile.

"Hot damn. I'm back on D'Qar?" He searched around himself for more evidence of the Resistance outpost, but the medical tent was featureless. "How'd I manage that?"

"Preternatural good fortune, I'd say. After crash-landing, you were smuggled out from Jakku in a shipment of Knockback Nectar. I think it's indicative of your state that you don't remember arranging your own passage."

"No, I think it's starting to come back to me now." He grimaced. "Yeah. Nakka Iit found me in the desert and did me a favor. I think I'd rather not tell you what I had to do to get on that ship."

She burbled an amphibious laugh. "I suspect somebody will get it out of you later, under the influence of alcohol."

"You know me well, Bollie." Poe flexed his toes and ran a hand through his hair. He was starting to feel more like himself. "You got a datapad so I can make my report?"

"My instructions indicate you should rest." But she handed him a pad and stylus anyway. "I will return with sustenance."

He had barely written enough to outline the situation on Jakku by the time she returned, but thinking had brought up all the memories of his encounter with the First Order and Kylo Ren, and along with them, even more questions. Writing it down, at least, gave him some clarity and a sense of distance from the events.

Drinking was painful, but he managed to gulp down the cup of water Bollie offered him. He set the standard ration beside him on the table; there was no way he was going to be able to eat yet.

"I have to talk to the General," he said. "The BB-8 unit —"

Bollie made the motion of her head that signaled a negative. "I don't have clearance. Best not say anything. The General has already arranged for a meeting upon your waking; she will be here shortly, if you wish to be dressed when she arrives."

Poe glanced down at his medical shift, then gingerly swung his legs out to rest on the floor. "Yeah, I'm sure the General wants to see me naked about as much as I want to see her that way."

"That is what I anticipated," she said gravely. "And perhaps I would have been particularly surprised to hear otherwise, considering your preference for the other of your human genders."

Poe snorted. "Not considering she's about fifty years older than I am?"

"That, too." She took his hand in one of her appendages. "We were relieved you returned safely, Poe Dameron. The odds were against you."

"Now you tell me," he said cheerfully.

Bollie left him to finish the details of his report. He did it in pieces, taking breaks to breathe and peer out of the medical tent. _The size of hangar 6 inside the Finalizer. The maneuvers he and Finn had used to confound the First Order troops during their escape in the TIE Fighter. The TIE itself, all the instrumentation and details he'd never learned in training._

There were so many other things, feelings and senses about the First Order he could never have encapsulated in words. He could already tell he was going to need some psych counseling — if they had enough time for that before the next assault. He wished he'd thought to ask for an anti-nausea med; perhaps she was right about that secondary concussion, or perhaps it was just that the adrenaline hadn't sufficiently cleared out of his system yet.

 _Keep him intact and functioning._ That had been Kylo Ren's command. The fact that he'd come out as sane as he had made Poe wonder.

The worst part, as always, was reporting the losses. He hoped beyond hope that BB-8 had gotten away — not only for the sake of all of them, but because Poe was damned attached to that little droid. And he knew it was impossible to count individual human lives in the scope of a campaign, but every person he'd interacted with stuck with him. Every villager on Jakku, Lor San Tekka, they were casualties he'd never be able to erase from his mind.

 _And there was Finn._ Poe couldn't help but smile and shake his head. That had been one incredible stroke of luck: a Stormtrooper who just happened to defect and be present to help him, right when he needed it the most. If he'd been more wizard-minded, he might be inclined to say the Force had had a hand in it. Maybe it was foolish, but he regretted the loss of Finn even more than the loss of Lor San. A fighter like that, quick and smart and with more courage than reason, would have been a valuable addition to the Resistance.

 _A hell of a friend, too._

He let the tears come, as he'd been taught to do. Holding back the bursts of emotion just prolonged the process. Better to mourn quickly and be done with it. Poe wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his uniform and tried to calm his stomach while he finished his report and submitted it.

He dozed in his chair and nibbled at the standard rations until the door flap opened again, and Bollie peered in, announcing, "General Organa, Commander."

Poe stood at attention while she entered, but the first thing she did was wave him back into his chair. "Sit, sit, Poe. You're not on duty here. I'm glad to see you."

"General," he said, smiling. She wasn't going to pause and hug him, but the intent of her declaration was clear in the relief that showed on her face. "Glad to be seen."

"Yes, well, after we got news of the destruction of your X-wing on Jakku, there were some who gave up hope. I insisted we track the First Order's return to the _Finalizer_. That was when we learned of your capture, and your escape." She shook her head in reluctant admiration. "You are one lucky woolamander. In all my years in the Republic, I can't remember hearing about any soldier having a favorable encounter with a stormtrooper."

"I can't say he seemed very typical. Not that I've had any other helmetless interactions with stormtroopers. Not a reg, that was for sure."

She nodded. "And you say he was determined to help you? For what reason?"

"He said it was the right thing to do." Poe laughed, but he was mortified to hear it come out more like a sob. "He really just needed a pilot to fly the TIE-Fighter, but… I'm pretty sure he actually meant what he said."

"Remarkable." The General looked thoughtful. "If it were possible to appeal to the humanity of other stormtroopers… that might be a weakness we've not yet been able to exploit." She shook off the train of thought. "Something to consider another day. All right, Commander. Give me your verbal report. What was the outcome?"

Poe swallowed on the ruin of his throat, and straightened his back, starting with his arrival on Jakku and the communication he'd had with the villagers and Lor San before Kylo Ren's attack. He made it as brief as he could, but it was hard not to go into detail when the General was such a _good_ listener.

"I couldn't hold out, General," he concluded. He didn't drop his chin. "I failed. The First Order agent broke me."

"You may have failed in your mission; that remains to be seen. We are still searching Jakku for your BB-8 unit." She shook her head. "But make no mistake. He did not break you."

"But I told him everything," he protested. "He knows about BB-8. And Lor San —"

"Poe," chided the General. He felt his face flush. "You can't blame yourself for not doing everything by the book. Believe me, if I'd been looking for _careful,_ I wouldn't have selected you for this mission."

"Oh, thanks," he muttered. She rested a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I know you better than that. You know, your father told me stories about how your mother let you fly her old RZ-1 A-Wing. When you were _six._ He said it wasn't because she knew you wouldn't crash, but because she couldn't keep you out of the cockpit. You were always more courageous than was reasonable."

It was so close to what he'd thought about Finn that he had to shut his eyes and swallow the hurt of the loss all over again. "My mother was a great flight instructor."

"That's not in question. This is about you." Her lip quirked. "I seem to recall he mentioned something about you snapping off treetops over the Ferra Groves on Yavin 4."

"That was because we'd stripped the concussion missiles off the A-Wing," he protested, "and we hadn't yet compensated for the—" He huffed as she suppressed a smile. "You're doing that on purpose."

"And what exactly would that be?"

"When you talk to me like _Leia_ and not like my commanding officer. I'm certain there's something in the regs about being too familiar with your troops."

She snorted. "Poe, it's exactly _because_ I know you that well that I chose you for this mission. For one thing, you see patterns no one else does. You realized the significance of the First Order when Major Deso and the rest of Republic Command was certain the threat was minimal. For another, I needed someone I could trust, beyond reason. Someone I knew had the courage to face someone like Kylo Ren." Her words were kind, but her gaze was implacable. "Now, tell me what you saw."

"What — what I saw?"

"I read your report. I know they captured you and took you aboard the _Finalizer._ Now tell me what wasn't in your report."

He couldn't be sure whether it was his post-concussion state or the way the General was looking at him that made it hard for him to answer. What, exactly, did she want to know? _Resurgent-class Star Destroyers smell like ozone and dirty feet. Lor San's grand-niece made me a sand cake before she was blown to bits by the First Order. I gave a former stormtrooper the only name he'd ever known, and I can't stop thinking about his smile._

"Kylo Ren," she prompted softly. He tried to order his thoughts.

"I told him the Resistance would not be intimidated by him. But — by the Great Temple, Leia, he was _damned_ intimidating." He sighed. "General. Sorry. He caught my blaster bolt."

"Caught it?"

"In the air. I've never seen anything like it."

She nodded slowly. "He — has a measure of control over the Force."

"That's what I was guessing. And he could hurt me, directly. Cause me pain in my mind, without even touching me. Dig right down into my thoughts and take what he wanted. I've never had a problem with small spaces before, but I think the way he grabbed me and held me paralyzed, I couldn't even _breathe…"_ He shook his head helplessly. "Let's just say the ride out from Jakku in that shipping container was… unpleasant."

"He tortured you."

"Oh, the torture wasn't so bad." He laughed at her expression. "I'm not saying that to be brave. It wasn't what he did to me physically that got to me, it was what he did to my will. When Finn came to get me —"

"Finn?" She blinked.

"Uh — the stormtrooper. He was… never mind." He shook his head, embarrassed. "The point is, by the the time he came into that holding cell, I _didn't want to live._ I'd given up. It was something about that stormtrooper, his determination, his willingness to go against his conditioning... it inspired me. He was terrified, and he still helped me escape. And when I told him we were going back to fight, and later to Jakku, he didn't like that at all. But he did it."

She smiled curiously. "Because it was… the right thing to do?"

"Maybe?" He shrugged. "I don't know. All I can say is, I think we're going to need more Resistance members with that kind of courage. All those myths about what Jedi Knights could do, seemed like Kylo Ren could do them. All of them." His voice dropped to a whisper. "How are we supposed to fight against something like that?"

"With everything we've got," she said. He'd seen that look on her face before, the underlying grief that spoke of the untold losses she'd seen during her lifetime. Poe knew her well enough by now that he had a sense of some of those losses, but there was something more lurking, something she'd never told him.

Now she did hug him, with her surprisingly fierce strength. It caught him off guard, and he cried into her shoulder for a few embarrassing moments.

"Thank you, Poe. You did more than was expected of you. But, then, you always do."

He didn't say anything more about failure, no matter what he was thinking. He just nodded. "Thank you, General."

She let him go as quickly as she'd held him, grasping his shoulders and holding him at arm's length. "Listen to the medic's instructions. Whatever time they tell you to take, you take it, understood? We're going to need you at full strength as soon as we determine what happened to your BB-8. Your replacement T-70 is ready for action. You're going to need a new Resistance jacket, too."

"Yeah. Mine was lost in the downed TIE-Fighter."

"That should be easy enough to manage."

"It won't fit like the old one," he said mournfully. "It took years to break that jacket in. It's been with me on every firefight."

She squeezed his shoulder and smiled into his eyes. "Go decompress with your friends. Let your squadron know you're okay."

"Yes, General." That, at least, was an easy command to follow.

Bollie must have spread the word when she'd left, because nobody Poe ran into seemed surprised he was alive. They were clearly relieved, though, and within minutes, he had five invitations to share drinks at shift end. It was more energizing than exhausting, but he waited until he ran into Karé to make his own offer.

"There's a shipment of Knockback Nectar, just got delivered from Jakku," he murmured into her ear as she hugged him. "Don't ask me how I know. Meet me at the captain's mess at twenty-two thirty. Bring Iolo."

The rules about fraternization between troops, so clearly outlined in the New Republic regs, were far less strict in the Resistance. Though he never would have expected General Organa to say so, Poe knew she was aware of the kind of relationships that typically developed between people when they spent a good deal of intense, focused time with one another. It was no different on D'Qar Base. Once they had weeded out the individuals who hated one another on the spot, they'd ended up with a lot of solid, intense friendships — and quite a few lovers. This was less complicated when it happened among troops of the same rank, but for all that Iolo Arana and Karé Kun were captains and he was a commander, they were essentially equals, and they'd known each other for years. It wasn't complicated between the three of them, and it never had been. It was simply something he could count on.

Karé spent a lot of time fussing over him, asking questions about the less classified details of his mission, while Iolo poured row after row of shots and gave him a solid body to lean against. It took Poe a surprisingly long time to get to the point of feeling relaxed enough to talk about Finn.

"The guy who rescued me," he said, and stopped at the outraged expression on Karé's face. Iolo began to laugh.

"You were captured by the First Order," she demanded, swatting his arm, "and you met a _guy?"_

"It wasn't like that," he protested.

"Oh, no," Iolo said, still laughing. "I know that look. It was _exactly_ like that."

He let the alcohol sway him into memory, where Finn was still wide-eyed and smiling at him across the cockpit of the TIE-Fighter. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But not _mostly._ He was — I can't even tell you."

Karé rolled her eyes as she handed him another shot. "But you're sure as hell going to try."

"Can you imagine…" Poe paused to drink it, then continued. "Living in a universe where everybody is the same, where everybody is expected to be exactly like everybody else. To _conform._ What kind of impossible task is that? And somehow, he managed to go from faceless, nameless non-identity to — to deciding that it was worth it to risk his whole _reality_ to save — me."

"He needed a pilot," she drawled.

"Look, it wasn't — that wasn't it!" He scowled at Iolo, now off on a brand-new gale of laughter. "You're not helping."

"Exactly what do you want me to say?" Iolo's violet eyes twinkled at him. He wrapped an arm around Poe's waist, pulling him in closer. "It isn't every day you fall in love with a stormtrooper."

The quantity of Knockback Nectar in his system made him just maudlin enough that he was able to cry a little about that before getting completely annoyed with himself. "Yeah, well, he's dead now. Just like all those kids on Jakku." He held up the next shot, raising it to the stars. "You were a hell of a shot, Finn Stormtrooper."

* * *

In the midst of the excitement following Han Solo and Finn's arrival on D'Qar, Poe could only beam down at BB-8 and watch it all happening. There were too many incredible things all at once for him to have time to feel anything about any of it, but at least he could be happy to have his droid back. BB-8 spouted stream after stream of binary delight at him, almost too much for Poe to understand at once, but that was okay. He'd get the droid to slow down and tell him the whole thing later.

He stood in the conference room, watching Admiral Ackbar as he led Finn away. They were already speaking in hushed tones, no doubt about the weapon that had destroyed the Hosnian system and Finn's role in the clash on Takodana.

"Poe," he heard, and turned to see General Organa watching him carefully. She glanced after the departing Admiral, then sighed. "Come over here for a moment. I suspect it won't be long before we're interrupted."

"We can talk later," he said, but she shook her head, pulling him into a corner. She lowered her voice.

"That's your stormtrooper. You called him _Finn."_

"Yes," he said, nodding. He felt the incredulous smile break across his face. "Can you believe it? Not only is he still alive, but he's smack in the middle of the most important Rebellion conflict in months."

"Stranger things have happened," she murmured. Her gaze on him sharpened. "Poe, he's wearing your jacket."

His cheeks flushed suddenly. "I — I know. It's fine. He pulled it out of the wreckage of the TIE fighter."

She raised both eyebrows. "Commander _Dameron."_

"What?" he protested.

"Just —" Her eyes closed, and she shook her head slowly. "Don't do it."

"Don't do what?"

"Trust me, I get it. I do. I understand how it can be." She reached out and seized his hands, and he startled, his eyes going wide. "This is _not_ a good idea."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, but even as the words left his lips, Poe could see his the plans being formulated in the corner of his mind. _He's here now. That spark you felt. It doesn't have to die. He looked so happy to see you._

"You can't let your feelings get involved here," she said, her tone vehement. "We have a _mission._ You are part of it. It's not worth it to get invested in — anything."

"I'm not invested!"

She visibly winced. "Poe, you _named_ him."

"Well, that was just — for convenience." His words dribbled out, sounding ridiculous even to his own ears. He stared at her, the hope draining away, leaving him strangely empty inside. "Are you telling me…?"

She sighed. "This is not your General commanding you. This is just me, just Leia, from one Resistance fighter to another. And I'm telling you: don't do it."

He could only nod. She released his hands and took a steadying breath.

"All right. I suspect we won't see one another again before you get your orders. Just — be careful, okay?"

It sounded like the kind of thing his father would have said. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but she clearly didn't appear to be convinced.

"I'll think about it," he said. "What you told me. I will."

"Yeah," she muttered. "I got it." She turned to BB-8 with a long-suffering shrug. "At least I tried."


End file.
